Every age has its peculiar folly: Some scheme, project, or fantasy into which it plunges, spurred on by the love of gain, the necessity of excitement, or the force of imitation.

Cleon hath a million acres,-ne'er a one have I; Cleon dwelleth in a palace,-in a cottage I.

But the sunshine aye shall light the sky, As round and round we run; And the truth shall ever come uppermost, And justice shall be done.

Aid the dawning, tongue and pen; Aid it, hopes of honest men!